


(and like a stove, i'll) turn my love down

by lipgallagher



Series: fistfight drunk like [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-27 15:37:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipgallagher/pseuds/lipgallagher
Summary: And there's a strong wide heavy palm planted against Steve's back, long decidedly masculine fingers tapping down over his ass, just for asecond, before BillyfuckingHargrove hums, "That weird ice cream you like's on sale this week, pretty boy."Steve wants to say,I fucking knew you were judging my purchases every fucking time you work the cash register, you fucking asshole, this is why I hate coming here, Jesus Christ, but all he ends upactuallysaying is, "Okay, hey, number one?Don'tsexually harass me in the workplace."Billy raises his eyebrows. "Sorry, do youworkhere, now, sweetheart?""Youdo!""Yeah, and as soon as they hire somebody else who's as hot as me, I'll start harassingotherpeople in my workplace, but fornow, that burden's on you."ALTERNATIVELY: the dumb modern supermarket au no one asked for or, in fact, even wanted.





	(and like a stove, i'll) turn my love down

**Author's Note:**

> awhile back someone anon asked on tumblr if id think about writing a modern harringrove fic and i wasnt all that keen to do it tbh but! things have been rather bleak for me these past few days and i wanted to do something cute and dumb to distract myself from how fucking much i want to die, so!  
> anyway!  
> unless youre new, you know how this goes.  
> you have my deepest apologies, in advance.

**december**

"My brother's back," Max says. 

Steve eats three onion rings, then asks, "Wait. What? _Billy_?"

Max smiles at him.

It's a _pretty_ mean smile.

That, _alone_ , is a solid reminder that she's kinda sorta related to Billy, who once smiled _right_ at Tommy's face when he hit him dead in the jaw and knocked him the fuck out during a basketball game, even though they were _on the same team_.

" _How_ _many_ brothers do you think I _have_?"

" _Hey_ ," Steve snaps. " _Don't_ talk to me like that." 

"Like _what_?" 

"Like I'm _stupid_." 

Max steals one of his onion rings, dips it into one of the milkshakes one of the other kids abandoned a few minutes ago, before she looks up and smiles again. "I _don't_ think I can make a promise like that."

Steve _hates_ her. 

"You know, _Maxine_ , it's _so_ cool that we're _not_ friends, so I _don't_ have to drive you to that dumb skate competition that's, like, _three_ _counties away_ , 'cause--"

"Oh, come _on_ ," Max groans, immediately. "I'm _sorry_ , okay? Look, Steve, can I just be honest with you?" 

Steve's torn. 

 _Sure_ , he wants Max to feel, whatever, _safe_ , and everything, but he's not _actually_ that into _anybody_ being honest with him, _ever_ , because that's pretty much  _guaranteed_ to take up a lot of his time, but. 

Ms Byers and Mrs Wheeler came up with this weird new carpooling system, last month, where they all take turns driving the brats around, so he's kind of stuck at the arcade, for the rest of the night, anyway, _no_ matter what, so. 

He shrugs. 

Max steals another onion ring, gnaws at it, then sighs, " _Look_ , Billy's been giving me a _real_ hard time, _plus_ I haven't got my period in, like, two months, and I'm _freaking out_ , and--"

Just to be sure, Steve interrupts, "Are those things _related_?" 

She rolls her eyes. "Ugh, gross, _no_ , that's not a _thing_ , that's _never_ been a thing, _no_. Like, I _know_ he's kinda rapey, sometimes, but, honestly, Billy is, like, _ninety percent_ gay, Steve." 

And, God, Steve _doesn't_ want to know about this shit.

He _doesn't_ , but.

"What's the other ten percent?" 

"Um, mostly just MILFS, I guess, according to his Google search history as of, like, three and a half years ago?" She eyes Steve thoughtfully. "But, hey, you _know_ , the kind of _guys_ he--"   

"Where's he even _been_?" 

It was actually _really_ big news, in the summertime, when, even though he wasn't done with school, Billy shot out of town, _anyway_ , with all his stuff packed up in his dumb car. 

Like, people were _still_ talking about it on  _Halloween_.

And now he's _back_. 

Billy's got a fucking _great_ sense of dramatic timing, apparently.  

"Um, hanging out with his ex, back home, I think. And then she kicked him out, and he was in jail, and now he's back here. I think." 

Steve blinks. "Wow. Good." 

" _Yeah_ ," Max sighs. "Hey, you don't know anywhere that's hiring, do you? Billy's probation officer is the _shadiest_ guy I've ever met, and I _don't_ want him in my house, like, _ever_ again." Steve raises his eyebrows. Max nods. "Yeah, _and_ I'm counting Billy." 

" _Shit_." 

"Honestly! It was a _really_ gross vibe, and, like, okay, _don't_ tell anybody I said this, 'cause it's embarrassing, but it's, like, the _only_ time I've ever felt _better_ 'cause Billy was with me?" 

Steve thinks about that for a second, then shrugs. "No, yeah, that. Yeah, that seems legit. Like, _personally_ , if a creepy guy was hanging around _me_ , I'd... _probably_ not want Billy there? Just 'cause, historically, nine times out of ten, creepy guys giving me shit have actually _been_ Billy?"

"Right," Max nods agreeably. "I mean. _Yeah_." 

"Yeah, but. I guess I can see that, for you."   

Dustin throws himself dramatically down onto the seat next to Steve, and Lucas slips into the booth across from them, asks, "What are you guys talking about?" 

"Boys," says Max, primly. 

Dustin sighs. 

Steve turns his head _just_ enough to look at him. "Jesus, _what_?" 

"Man, I keep _losing_ at air hockey." 

Steve sighs, too. 

He knows where _this_ is going.

"Do you want me to come play with you, so you can beat me, and feel good about yourself?" 

Dustin beams. "Steve, I would _love_ that."

Mike, leaning over the back of the booth, rolling his eyes, sighs, "You two are _so_ fucking weird. Just get _married_ , already."  

"What, and just  _stop_ dating your sister, and _stop_ coming by your house, _just_ to annoy you all the time?" Steve asks, raising his eyebrows incredulously as he slides out of his seat. "I could _never_ do that to you, man. Hey, somebody order me some more onion rings, okay?" 

 

 

 

 

 

**january**

A couple days after New Year's, Steve is at the grocery store with Dustin, who is pissed because his mom's on some weird diet, and she's not letting him keep Nilla Wafers in the house, or something.

Steve could not care _any_ less about this than he _already_ does, is how fucking little he cares, but he took Will with him to the 7-11 the other day, because he was supervising D &D night, but he needed cigarettes, and Will was sitting out that particular round of the game, for reasons that Steve didn't care enough about to ask questions over, and Will's a fucking _freak_ who thinks Slurpees are a year round food, apparently, and Steve didn't really ask him any questions on that, _either_ , because that kid is _intense_ , and ever since Steve turned seventeen, it's like he can only put _so much_ effort into things before he's too drained to get out of bed, in the mornings, so.

He didn't push Will on the Slurpee thing, because he _didn't_ think it was a big deal, but as soon as _Dustin_ heard about it, he _totally_ lost his shit, like maybe he thinks that Steve is only allowed to hang out with _him_ , or something, so Steve's been spending the past couple days just texting Dustin, a lot, to ask if he wants to hang out, just so that the kid doesn't get insecure and drop dead from a lack of attention, which seems unlikely, but _could_  maybe still happen. 

Dustin's _sensitive_. 

And it's _fine_ that Dustin's sensitive, but.

Come _on_.

Steve's too _tired_ for this kind of shit. 

Honestly, if Steve _wanted_  some intense loud possessive guy hanging around him and trying to tell him what to do all the time, he'd _probably_ just split with Nancy, pick out a particularly mean guy to be his boyfriend, and move on with his life, already.

That might actually be cool, though. Nancy's been kind of distant, these days, and fine, whatever, _sue him_ , because.

Steve's a little bit like Dustin is, okay?

He _likes_ attention.  

He says, absently, just to try it out, "You know, I'm thinking I might be, like. Pansexual, or bi, or something." 

Dustin stops gnawing at a Twix bar to stare incredulously at Steve. He shifts around in the shopping cart that Steve's been pushing around Kroger for the past hour and a half, even though they haven't put much into it, except Dustin, because Steve didn't think he'd fit, and Dustin said, _no, I definitely will, dude, I'm deceptively compact_ , which had _sounded_ like a lie and a half, but _ultimately_ turned out to be true as shit. 

Steve doesn't know how they're gonna get him _out_ of the shopping cart, unless he just pushes it over and Dustin climbs out, but they'll _probably_ get kicked out of the grocery store, if they do it like that, and Steve doesn't want that to happen, because he comes here _all the time_. 

It'd be _embarrassing_. 

Dustin says, rolling his eyes, " _Yeah_ , Steve. _Or something_. Jesus _Christ_." 

Steve blinks, then takes a step back, and shoves the shopping cart onto the linoleum. 

" _Fuck_!" Dustin shrieks. "I hate you! I think I just _broke_ my _leg_!" 

"You definitely _didn't_ , asshole," calls Billy, who can't possibly know what the hell just happened, because he's still sitting at his register, tapping at his shitty old Samsung, looking hungover and bored and annoyed. "Don't fucking _scream_ like that; my head _hurts_." 

"I'm getting _abused_ , over here," Dustin spits. 

Billy finally glances up from his phone, leans over his counter to assess the situation, locks eyes with Steve.

Steve puts a _lot_ of effort into putting on an innocent smile.

Billy eyes him up and down, _slowly_ , then smirks down at his phone, like, "Tell it to somebody who fucking  _cares_." 

 

 

 

 

 

**february**

Steve's at work when his phone goes off.

He's not _really_ supposed to have his phone turned on until his break, but he usually just leaves it on vibrate on top of his desk, because he doesn't really _care_.

Steve didn't even _interview_ for this job, his dad just fucking _gave_ it to him to get him out of the house a little more, which means that, just like everything _else_ in his life, this job is _bullshit_ , so.

He can check his phone if he fucking _wants_ to. 

He's got a missed call from a number he doesn't recognize, and a thirteen second voicemail that sounds like an unfortunately familiar voice asking him, "Yo, I'm at Goodwill; should I buy a leather jacket that has an American flag patched on the back?"

Steve listens to it three more times, then opens a text to the new number, like, _pls tell me ur joking_

_no_

_how do u have my number again?_

_d &d carpool_ Billy replies.  _you dont think id look good as hell in ths?_

Steve waits for the picture of the dumb and expectedly tacky as hell jacket to load, then responds,  _NO_

_sucks_

_??_

_already got it & im not fuckng w the goodwill return policy im nt about that life_

Steve rolls his eyes, sighs, texts, _you are so fucking draining do u kno that abt yrself???_

_lmfao_ Billy's like. _see you amigo_

 

 

 

 

Billy's not wearing his dumb new jacket when Steve sees him later, but that's probably just because he's working. 

"Hey." 

Billy stops stocking boxes of Birthday Cake Oreos, turns to give Steve his full attention, grins, "Do my ears _deceive_ me, or are you talking to me in _public_ , King Steve? What if somebody _catches_ us?" 

Steve rolls his eyes. "Are you getting Max from the roller rink, later?" 

"Yeah," Billy admits. "But only under _extreme_ fucking duress. I don't know how those fuckers even _found_ a roller rink, it's _2018_ , I mean, what the _fuck_." 

Steve nods absently. "Oh, it's a _real_ mystery, my man. Listen, could you grab Dustin, too, for me? I'll owe you one." 

"Okay, look, I don't usually try to give people advice, but I've only been on the carpool circuit for, like, a _week_ , and you already owe me, like, a _fuckton_ of favors, pretty boy. You _know_ that, right?"  

"What's your _problem_ , Hargrove?" Steve demands, instead of pointing out that Billy _hasn't_ given him any advice, not _today_ , at least, and, actually? _Not_ since those few months in senior year where he pushed Steve around in the hallways, like, _twice a week_ telling him to _plant his feet_ , like that made _sense_ out of the _extremely_ limited confines of a basketball court, or something. " _Jesus_ , what do you _expect_ from people, I mean, what do you _want_ from me?" 

Billy smiles, like Steve's doing something funny, and _isn't_ about two seconds away from ripping his fucking _throat_ out.

He says, "All I want's world peace. Well, _and_ eternal blowjobs." 

Steve rolls his eyes. "Will you get Dustin?" 

"Yeah, whatever, fine." 

" _Thanks_ ," Steve sighs, walking away.

He's got to buy something for Nancy, so he should hurry up and do that, and then.

Shit, he has no idea.

It's Valentine's Day today, and she _said_ she didn't want to do anything, but.

Girls _always_ say that, and it's just _never_ true.

He hesitates, standing halfway between the candy aisle and the greeting cards aisle, not sure what to do, and.

And there's a strong wide heavy palm planted against Steve's back, long decidedly masculine fingers tapping down over his ass, just for a _second_ , before Billy _fucking_ Hargrove hums, "That weird ice cream you like's on sale this week, pretty boy."

Steve wants to say, _I fucking knew you were judging my purchases every fucking time you work the cash register, you fucking asshole, this is why I hate coming here, Jesus Christ_ , but all he ends up _actually_ saying is, "Okay, hey, number one?  _Don't_ sexually harass me in the workplace." 

Billy raises his eyebrows. "Sorry, do you _work_ here, now, sweetheart?" 

" _You_ do!"

"Yeah, and as soon as they hire somebody else who's as hot as me, I'll start harassing _other_ people in my workplace, but for _now_ , that burden's on you." 

"You're _such_ a fucking dick."

Billy gives him an unrepentant shrug. "What's two?"

"What?"

"One, don't harass you, I _hear_ you, but. Listen, full disclosure? I'm _gonna_ keep that up, no matter what, so. _Two_?"

"Two, is. I mean. Okay, look, I. _Don't_ judge my food. I _like_ what I _like_."

" _Yeah_ ," snorts Billy, grabbing an empty box off of the floor and settling it against his hip before he walks away. "I _know_."

And God only knows what _that_ means.

Steve stares incredulously after Billy for almost a full minute before his phone goes off, and so he has to do some quick thinking to figure out if Nancy's going to hate him if he hits Ignore. 

Probably, right? 

_Shit_. 

He answers, "Hey, babe." 

"Hey," Nancy says, sounding distracted. She's always kind of distracted lately. She's moving away in a few months, and she's _already_ taking classes at the community college, just to _prepare herself for the academic environment_ , whatever the fuck _that_ means. _God_. Nancy is just  _way_ too smart for him. "Sorry this is so short notice, but is it cool if we reschedule and hang out tomorrow? Or, actually, um, maybe. Saturday?" 

Steve gets elbowed out of the way of a _particularly_ vicious soccer mom, which is _annoying_ , because he actually _knows_ her. She gave him a recipe for Rice Krispies Treats, once, that ended up being _so_ much better than store bought ones, so Steve _kind of_ liked her, but that's over now, because Steve's _really_ good at holding grudges.

And, also, he _knows_ that her kid has one _hell_ of a crush on Dustin, which sucks for _her_ , because  _now_ , Steve's going to talk _so_ much shit about the Garcias that Dustin goes nowhere _near_ that kid, ever, just out of fucking _spite_. 

It'd probably be _more_ spiteful to _encourage_ Dustin to go out with little Jenny Garcia and tell him a lot of bullshit about how condoms _completely_ ruin sex and how a teenage pregnancy _wouldn't_ totally fuck up both their lives, or something, but.

Steve could never do that to Dustin. 

Well, okay, he _could_ , but. 

God, he's not fucking _delusional_.

Any kid of Dustin's is going to end up dropped off at Steve's place for babysitting, like, _six_ days out of _every_ goddamn week, and that's _not_ something Steve wants to sign himself up for, so. 

He scowls at Mrs Garcia's back and moves on, shifts his phone down between his shoulder and his ear as he tugs open one of the ice cream freezers, says, "Yeah, Saturday. Same time okay?" 

"Yeah, seven. Thanks, babe. Sorry, again, I'm just _super_ swamped, shhh, hey! _Stop_ it." Steve pauses. He's got one hand outstretched in front of the Ben and Jerry's frozen yogurt section. They _are_ on sale. One pint is usually six bucks, and today they're only $2.50. It's a fucking _steal_. But, also, Nancy's talking to somebody that's not him, and she's canceling their date, and it's Valentine's Day, and. He wants to fucking _scream_. Nancy giggles, quietly, then says, like she's _just_ remembered Steve's _still_ on the fucking phone, "Love you, okay?" 

_Love you_ , because they had a fight about that a few months ago. 

Nancy was drunk, she said she didn't love him, and Steve was upset.

In the morning, Nancy was sober, she said she didn't mean it, and now she says she loves him all the fucking _time_ , but. 

She's _canceling_ on him on _Valentine's Day_ and somebody that's definitely not _Steve_ is with her, making her laugh, so. 

So, Steve says, "Love you, too," and hangs up. 

 

 

 

 

 

Steve's half-asleep when the doorbell rings, and rings, and rings.

His parents aren't home, because they _never_ fucking are, when he needs them to be, so he gets out of bed, feeling prepared to fucking _murder_ somebody, but there's nobody there, just. 

A bag of ice cream. 

He calls out, " _Hello_?!" 

Nobody answers him, and there's no cars around, and. 

The whole thing is shady as hell. 

And it's not even like it's Steve's _favorite_ ice cream, or anything, but he still takes it back into the house with him, because, like. 

He's _actually_ pretty hungry, so.

_Whatever_. 

 

 

 

 

 

Nancy is sleeping with Jonathan. 

Steve knows, because she tells him so, and.

Steve goes out and buys her _flowers_ , fucking _roses_ , and _apologizes_ , even though _he's_ not the one who slept around and ruined their whole fucking relationship, because.

_Fuck_ , he thought they were in _love_.

He _still_ wants them to be in love, and.

Steve just wants this whole thing to go away. 

She _told_ him about it, at least, so. 

Maybe they can work it out. 

 

 

 

 

 

"You _fucking_ with me, pretty boy?" Billy yawns. It's late, and Billy was one of the last people closing up when Steve stumbled out of his car and into the store, and Billy looked like he wanted to _kill_ him, at first, but then he must have picked up on the still-wet tear tracks running down Steve's face, under the godawful fluorescent lights, because he sighed, _oh, okay, fine, just hurry up, okay?_

"No?" 

"What's _up_ with you?"

" _Nothing_ ," Steve spits, punching his parents' phone number into the customer ID value card thing. "Can you just do your fucking _job_ and check me _out_ , please?" 

Billy looks, for a second, like he wants to make a joke about _checking Steve out_ , which, _fine_ , Steve _kinda_ did set that one up for him.

And _then_ , Billy looks, for a second, like he's gonna reach out and smack Steve across the _face_ , which wouldn't be great, but.

Steve could probably take it.

He can take a _lot_ of shit. 

Billy says, "It's Sunday, pretty boy. Can't buy booze until 7AM." 

Steve looks down at his three bottles of Strawberries and Cream Bailey's in absolute _horror_.

" _You're_ fucking with _me_?" 

"Indiana law, babe. I don't know what to tell you." 

"I'm _underage_ ," Steve reminds him. "You were _still_ gonna sell it to me, _anyway_ , right?" 

" _Yeah_ , but only 'cause I _hate_ checking IDs, it's--"

" _Listen_ , you hate your job, I _know_ , but you don't _understand_ ," Steve pleads. "I'm gonna _die_ tonight, Hargrove. I _need_ a fucking drink." 

"You _need_ limited edition pink booze?" 

"Yes, you _fucking_ asshole, _yes_." 

Billy snorts, shakes his head, shrugs. "You poor _thing_. Come back tomorrow." 

"I'll be _dead_ tomorrow," Steve mumbles, scowling, pushing away from the register. He was leaning over it pretty heavily, turns out. He wasn't really _aware_ of that, but. That's probably because of the three glasses of wine he had at dinner, with Nancy, and then the two tiny airplane-sized bottles of Grey Goose he stole out of one of his mom's purses and hid in his car for emergencies, and. 

It takes him a few seconds to get sure on his feet, totally upright and steady and only a _little_ bit nauseous. 

Billy says, sounding _very_ annoyed, "Look, I gotta be here for fifteen more minutes. Go wait by my car. It's the blue Camaro." 

"I _know_ what your dumbass vintage car looks like," Steve snaps. "I don't need you to _drive me home_ , okay? I'm sober as _fuck_." 

"That's a lie, but fortunately for you, I don't know the Indiana code for a 5150, and also, I'm not driving you home, 'cause I got a curfew to make, or I fuck up probation, so just get your pretty ass outside, and _wait_ for me." 

 

 

 

 

 

  
When Billy finally joins him outside, Steve's smoked three cigarettes, has sent Jonathan Byers five pretty vicious texts, and has cried a little more, but that won't matter, because it's dark out here, and Billy's not going to be able to see. 

Billy opens the trunk of his car, roots around in it for a second, before he pulls out a bottle of the exact same kind of booze Steve was about to buy. 

Steve opens his mouth to be mean and judgmental, because that's kind of just who he is, but Billy beats him to it, like, "My dad got it for Susan on Valentine's, but she gave up drinking for Lent, and he just didn't fucking remember, so." He shoves the bottle against Steve's chest, waits for him to grab on to it, then lets go, closes the trunk, sighs, "You drive safe, now, King Steve." 

Steve mumbles, already breaking the bottle open, "What's a 5150?" 

"It's when the cops take you away 'cause you're crazy." 

"Oh," Steve's like. "Got it." 

 

 

 

 

  **march**

The next time Steve goes by the grocery store, Billy's not stocking the shelves.  

That's definitely where he _should_ be, but no, some _genius_ left him up front, running the express checkout lane, so he's _ostensibly_ doing that, but that _doesn't_ explain the store's sound system _only_ playing songs that Steve _knows_ Billy likes, and it sure as _hell_ doesn't explain how he can fucking _feel_ Billy's eyes on him the _entire time_ he's picking out purple Gatorade, three bags of Tostitos, and some spinach artichoke dip from the freezer section. 

When Steve gets back to the registers, Billy's not alone anymore, because he's engaged in what looks like a _terrifyingly_ lively argument with Max, who scowls at Steve, even though he thought they were _cool_ , the last time they talked, and pushes off the register, sighs, snatches a dollar out of the Give A Penny jar on her way out of the sliding doors. 

" _Wow_."

"She just hates this song," Billy says, rolling his eyes, reaching for Steve's shopping basket. "Find everything okay?"

Steve _knows_ it's just store policy to ask that, but.

He still feels suspicious when he answers, " _Yes_?"

"That's great." He scans the chips first, like, "You throwing a party I'm not invited to, or something?" 

"When do I _ever_ invite you to _anything_?" 

"There's a first time for everything, King Steve. _That's_ why perseverance is the skeleton key to getting what you want."

Oh, _good_.

So, this isn't actually about Steve at _all_.

"You know, Max is  _never_ gonna like this song. You can play it as  _much_ as you want; she's just  _never_ gonna like it." 

" _Blood On The Dance Floor_  is a fucking  _classic_." 

Steve points out, "This  _entire song_  is about some girl called Susie being a psycho killer." 

Billy gives him a bored smile. "And so Max should have no problems with it, 'cause my stepmother's name is  _Susan_. Your total is $9.47." 

"No, it's not," Steve says. He leans over to look at the display on the computer, because. "That's at  _least_ two bucks too cheap, dude." 

" _Dude_ ," Billy snaps, reaching out to shove Steve backwards. "Get _away_ from my counter, oh my  _God_. I fucking  _said_ $9.47, and that's that, okay?" 

"Yeah, but you're  _wrong_." 

Like  _Steve_ is somehow the asshole here, like they've  _really_ been talking for more than twenty-three seconds, or something, Billy explodes, " _Fuck_ , if I was  _wrong_ , I would  _admit_ it, and move  _on_ with my life, like I was  _trying_ to, _three fucking years ago_ , you know,  _all_ the way back when you walked up here and  _started_ giving me bullshit about me being  _bad at math_!" 

Steve was on the same basketball team as Billy for almost an entire _year_ , and once saw him start a fistfight over a game of cards that he  _wasn't even playing_ , and then he broke two of the other guy's _ribs_ , and then he didn't even _apologize_ , so. 

_Yeah_ , Steve's  _pretty sure_ he's dealing with the kind of guy who could make a minor mathematical mistake and be  _totally_ aware of it and just  _never_  admit it,  _ever_ , but. 

What the fuck can he really  _do_? 

He sighs, "Whatever, _fine_."

"Out of ten," Billy hums, taking Steve's cash, opening up the register, sighing when the Michael Jackson song ends and a Selena Gomez one comes on, instead. "And here's your change. Never come back, ever; I hate your fucking  _face_." 

Steve rolls his eyes, takes his bag, and starts to leave, but then.

Billy _whistles_ , low and dramatic and drawn-out, so Steve stops, turns back to look at him.

"Are you  _objectifying_ me?" 

" _Hate_ to see you go, _love_ to watch you leave," Billy says, pulling out a vape pen, like he thinks his boss _isn't_ going to see that on the security cameras, or something. "And other cliche shit like that, you know, whatever. Go away." 

" _Jesus_ , Hargrove, I don't. Are you  _messing_ with me?" 

" _No_ ," sneers Billy. " _Seriously_ , Christ, just  _leave_." 

Steve sighs, turns back around, and. 

" _Goddamn_ ," Billy whistles, and Steve sighs again.

"Okay,  _look_ \--"

"If you're gonna talk to me  _every_  time you think I'm checking out your ass, you're signing yourself up for a  _lot_ of unnecessary conversation, pretty boy--" 

"Who even  _are_ you?" Steve demands. "What does any of that even  _mean_? I mean, do you know what you fucking  _sound_ like, when you talk to people?" 

"It's  _so_ sad that you got smacked  _so_ hard with the stupid stick," Billy informs him, after a long pause, giving Steve a sympathetic little smile. "I mean, you're hot enough that you're obviously gonna do _fine_ , either way, but, I mean.  _Goddamn_. What a  _bummer_ , for you." 

" _Bye_ , Billy." 

 

 

 

 

 

Billy must be on a break, or something, today, because Steve gets through a pretty boring shopping experience, buys hand lotion, ice cream, cheese pizza Hot Pockets, and then, once he's outside, thinking about lighting a cigarette, someone's pushing something into his hands, instead, asking, "Yo, where the fuck do your _parents_ shop?"

Steve stops messing around with Billy's vape pen, feeling confused as shit. " _What_?" 

"I mean, is there some real bougie store around here I've just never heard about? A Whole Foods, or something?" 

"They're just not at home a lot." 

" _Right_ ," says Billy, leaned back against the back wall of the store like he thinks he's James Dean, or something. "That's _not_ a real answer to my question." 

"Sometimes you don't _get_ real answers, Hargrove," Steve sighs. "That's _life_. Listen, when's the Easter candy going on sale? I want, like, a _million_ Reese's." 

"So go  _buy_ a million Reese's." 

"Minimum wage is 7.25 an hour," Steve reminds Billy. "So,  _no_ , I'm not paying twenty bucks for a couple bags of peanut butter cups when I already fucking  _know_ I'm gonna blow through them in, like, an hour and a half." 

"Well, we _all_ want Reese's Cups, man," Billy sneers. "Life doesn't just _provide_ you with Reese's 'cause you _want_ them." 

Steve hands back the pen, pushes off the wall, decides, "I can't _take_ you today."

Billy stutters out a laugh, tilts his head back, licks his lips. "What days _can_ you take me, pretty boy?" 

Steve blinks, sighs, rolls his eyes. "You know, my _favorite_ thing about you is how often you just _casually_ imply that I should be riding your dick. I _love_ that, I _really_ do. There was _such_ a lack of gay as hell objectification in my life, before you moved to town, and I _gotta_ say, I am _real_ glad that you took on that responsibility." 

"Well, Harrington, you know me." Billy gives him a beatific smile. " _Always_ happy to do my part for the community." 

 

 

 

 

 

**april**

The Monday after Easter, Steve goes by the supermarket right after it opens, at seven.

Billy's not working, or if he _is_ , he's not working where Steve can see him.

But he _clearly_ fucking remembered their conversation from two and a half weeks ago enough to be spiteful as _shit_ over it, because the discount Easter bin holds exactly _one_ sad-looking bag of Reese's, about _fifty_ Easter-themed bags of Hershey's Kisses, Kit-Kats, all _kinds_ of stuff, but only _one_ fucking bag of Reese's Cups, which is basically  _impossible_. 

Steve scowls, picks out a bag of miniature Three Musketeers bars so he can bribe Dustin with them, at some point in the future.

He doesn't know what  _for_ , yet, but he  _knows_ he's gonna need a bribe.

Life's just _like_ that, sometimes.

 

 

 

 

 

Steve is waiting for the kids to finish picking out movie night snacks, smoking a cigarette on top of the trunk of his car, watching Hayley Kiyoko videos on his phone, _without_ his headphones in, because he's an asshole, so that's a right that he _has_ in life, when Billy comes over and sighs, "At some point soon, you need to  _stop_ being _this_ gay, like, _this_ loud, bro. If somebody that's not _me_ kills you, I'm gonna feel _real_ cheated, and _real_ annoyed, and you're _delusional_ if you think we're not ending up in hell _together_ , asshole, so you don't _really_ want to piss me off before we die, okay?"

Steve mutters, "Don't call me _bro_ , Jesus, that's so _weird_ , I _hate_ that." 

Billy bites his lip, laughs, shakes his head. 

"What?"

"You let me call you _whatever_ the fuck I want, _all_ the fucking time, and _this_ is the hill you want to die on?" 

"What are you _talking_ about? What do you _call_ me?"

"I called you _princess_ last Wednesday!"

Steve, who barely remembers being _alive_ last Wednesday, just blinks. "How do you _remember_ that?"  

" _Christ_ , Harrington," Billy sneers. "I don't know how you _survive_ without me." 

" _Yeah_ ," Steve snorts. "I manage, _somehow_ , but, you know, some days, it's a _real_ close thing." 

"Listen, I gotta get to work, so. Don't get hate-crimed on your way home." 

"I... _don't_ think you can say that like a verb."

Billy shoots him a _huge_ smile. "Oh, yeah? Define _verb_ for me, pretty boy." 

Steve _can't_. 

Billy's gotta _know_ he can't. 

What a fucking asshole. 

"I _hate_ you," he says. 

" _Oh_ ," Billy coos, low and mean and _delighted_. He roots around in his dumb faux leather satchel, pulls out something to throw at Steve, like, " _Bye_ , baby." 

 

 

 

 

 

Steve eats the Reese's Egg that Billy threw at him in exactly two savage bites, at three AM, when he wakes up because his parents come home, drunk and slamming doors and shouting like psychotic fucking _demons_. 

He pulls out his phone to text, i _KNEW u stole all the reeses from me u fucking sociopath_

_define sociopath_ Billy texts back, immediately.

Steve _could_ , but Billy would _know_ he just copied and pasted it off Merriam Webster, so there's no point.

_get fucked_

_idk what u think im out here tryna do but ok_ Billy's like. _what are u up to gorgeous_

And there's a _lot_ of material _there_ , but Steve decides to ignore most of it, because that's what he's _good_ at.

He blinks, yawns, replies _listening to my mom and dad fight about mom fucking some guy from work_

Honestly, he doesn't know why they can't just fight during the _day_ , when he's not home, or at least just do it passive-aggressively, and _quietly_ , like _normal_ people, but.

_God_ , he's getting too _old_ for this shit. 

Billy texts, _BAD VIBE_

Billy texts, _parents r the worst_

Billy texts, _look ik its scary but u got 2 take the plunge & get out of there _

Steve rolls his eyes and tries to get back to sleep. 

He's not taking life advice from a guy who was wearing a house arrest bracelet, up until, like, _last week_. 

He's _not_. 

 

 

 

 

 

On D&D night, during a lull in the game that Steve's mostly using to steal pizza off of everybody's plates, Max suggests, "Hey, Steve, why don't you just move in with Billy?" 

Everybody that's not Steve pauses, like Max just threatened to _kill_ somebody, or something. 

Steve just yawns, "I don't really think that'd work, long-term." 

"Why not? Billy can't leave the state for, like, another year, but no _way_ is my stepdad gonna let him stay for _that_ long, so." 

"Steve _can't_ live with _Billy Hargrove_!" Dustin shouts, throwing a protective arm around Steve's shoulders, scowling at Max. "He'll _die_. Do you want him to _die_?!" 

" _Yeah_ , Max," Mike says, even though he hates Steve's fucking _guts_ , and reminds him of it, like, _every single time they see each other_. "Billy's basically _poison_. Would you want to _poison_ Steve?" 

"If he was being a dick, and wasn't driving me to the skatepark, yeah, _probably_." 

"I _said_ I was _sorry_!" Steve exclaims. "Oh my _God_!" 

" _Sorry_ doesn't win _championships_ , Steven," Max sneers. 

" _Shit_ , Billy," Steve's like. "That's _such_ a good disguise, I _totally_ thought you were _Maxine_ \--"

Another shocked pause rocks through the room, because _no one_ calls Max _Maxine_ , except for Billy, when he's being a dick.

And Steve, when _he's_ being a dick. 

But Steve is a dick _all the fucking time_ , so he's pretty sure Max is cool with it, by now.

And anyway, even if she's _not_ , she's the one who used _his_  full name _first_. 

He doesn't know what the fuck she _thought_ was gonna happen. 

He doesn't have to find out, though, thank _God_ , because the door opens, and Mrs Wheeler calls, "Dustin? Your mother's on the phone, honey." 

" _Really_?" Mike wonders quietly. " _So_ wild. I thought Steve was _right here_." 

"Ha-ha- _ha_ ," Dustin spits, getting out of his seat to go run up the stairs. "I hope you _die_." 

"We _all_ fucking hope for shit," Mike snarls after him. 

Mike's been _really_ intense lately. 

Dustin says it's because he met some new girl at school, who wears too much eye-makeup, and swears a lot, and Dustin thinks that she's a _bad influence_ , but. 

Steve's almost _totally_ sure that Dustin's _wrong_ , and that this is just what Mike's _always_ been like. 

Steve gets out his phone to text Billy, _if any of maxs bffs killed somebody which 1 wld it be_

_yr exs bb brother for sure hands down hav you ever made eye contact w him??? i dont fuck w him like lmao i LIKE breathing and being alive_

Steve hides a shocked laugh behind his hand.

Mike _still_ scowls at him, anyway. 

Billy adds,  _is some1 dead? if its max you better tell me im supposed 2 pick her ass up in like 20 minutes & if i end up wasting my time im gonna be pissed af_

Steve gets to work on eating the rest of Dustin's pizza before he gets back, then texts, _hey do u wanna move in w me?_

 

 

 

 

 

Billy doesn't text back, but he shows up to get Max after an hour and thirty-five minutes, tramples down the basement stairs, holding onto a Taco Bell bag and a blue Slurpee with one hand, running his fingers through his hair with the other hand, and. 

"Oh my _God_ ," Max breathes. "What happened to your _hair_?" 

"Shut _up_ ," Billy snarls. "I don't wanna _talk_ about it, asshole. _Jesus_ , can we _go_?" 

"I'm _busy_."

"You don't _get_ to be _busy_ , Maxine, not unless you _want_ me to hit you in the fucking _face_." 

"That's _really_ uncool to say to a girl," Will says, quiet and slow and serious. 

Steve raises his eyebrows, reaches up to take Billy's bag, and Billy scowls at him, but lets it go, snaps, "I'll fucking hit you, _too_ , man, I don't _care_. I'll hit _anybody_." 

"Not _Steve_ ," Max says, with a weird little smile on her face. "Because you--" 

Taking a step forward, rolling up one of his shirtsleeves, Billy grinds out, " _Maxine_ , do you _want_ to die?!" 

" _Hey_ ," Lucas says, standing up. "Leave her _alone_." 

Billy rolls his eyes. "Okay, I can't _do_ this shit with you people. Not tonight. _Jesus_." 

"Can I eat this burrito?" 

Billy glances over his shoulder, eyes Steve warily. "You got something to _say_ to me, pretty boy?" 

"Just that I'm hungry and I want this burrito?" 

"Then, yeah, fine. Go for it." 

 

 

 

 

 

Steve eats two burritos, half a Dorito taco, and three more slices of pizza before the kids _finally_ decide they're done playing D &D.

Billy smokes about a _million_ cigarettes, eats half a taco, and doesn't stop looking murderous, not for a fucking _second_ , all night long.

Eventually, right when Jonathan comes by to pick him up, Will walks around the table, pauses in front of the couch Steve and Billy have taken over, to say, quietly, "Sorry, okay? I just. My dad used to hit my mom, and--"

"Oh my God, I _don't_ care," Billy hisses, under his breath, looking absolutely fucking _disgusted_. It's probably cruel, but this is _maybe_ the funniest shit Steve's ever witnessed in his whole life. " _Everybody's_ dad hits _everybody's_ mom, okay? It's a _bummer_ , but it's _why_ Mother's Day even _exists_ , okay? You buy her some flowers, and a _Vogue_ , and some Red Vines, and then you all fucking move _on_." 

Steve waits until Will, looking shell-shocked as all shit, disappears up the stairs, before he breathes, "I can't _believe_ you just traumatized _Will Byers_."

Billy rolls his eyes, starts digging around in his jacket pockets, like, "What, like it's _hard_?" 

"He lived in the woods for, like, _two whole weeks_ when he was _twelve_ ," Steve informs him. "He almost _died_ , and, actually? We all _thought_ he was dead? There was a funeral, and _that_ really fucked him up, when he came back. He's _real_ intense about his mom. They're _super_ close." 

Billy hands Steve another Reese's Egg, looking down at his shoes, biting his lip, mumbling, "Well, _obviously_ , I didn't _know_ that."

"Obviously," Steve agrees, shoving the chocolate into his mouth. "It's cool, though, don't worry. He'll bounce back. He's, like, fourteen." 

"I'm not _worried_ about some random kid I _don't even know_ ," Billy snarls. 

"Yeah, no, I'd _never_ accuse you of that." 

 

 

 

 

**may**

"I feel like _I_ should have this room."

"The one I left you's bigger," Steve tries.

"Yep," Billy agrees, sounding unimpressed. " _This_ one's closer to the door, though, and I'm gonna have more guests than you, and we _both_ know it." 

"You have _no_ friends," Steve reminds him. " _Nobody_ likes you." 

Billy gives Steve a smile that's sugar-sweet when he says, "I don't need _friends_ to get my _dick_ wet."

This living together thing is _not_ going to work out if Billy's gonna _insist_ on talking to Steve about his dick.

It's just _not_.

Steve should probably tell him that. 

Steve says, " _Look_ , I already unpacked all my shit, so--"

"Why would you _want_ to give me the bigger room, _anyway_?" 

"Why not?"

"People don't just _do_ shit for no _reason_ ," Billy snaps. "What do you _want_?" 

"What? _Nothing_ , leave me alone,  _Christ_." 

 

 

 

 

 

They've been living together for three weeks, and Billy's had company almost _every single night_. 

Even on nights when he works the late shift at the store, and _shouldn't_ be able to find somebody to hook up with, he _still_ fucking does. 

Steve never actually runs _into_ these people, because Billy's apparently not the _hey, sleep over and cuddle with me_ kind of guy, but their place has thin walls, so Steve's getting _really_ familiar with Billy's sex playlist, which starts out with Khalid's _Location_ , which is a _great_ song, but it's _super_ unsubtle, like,  _I'm only acting like this 'cause I like you_ _, just give me the vibe to slide in, and I_ _might make you mine by the night's end_ , and then it rolls into the Kanye West remix of Beyonce's _Drunk In Love_ , which is, again, a _fantastic_ song, but is, _again_ , just  _really_ fucking unsubtle, because it literally goes, _I ain't no pastor, I don't do missionary, I know good pussy when I see it, I'm a visionary_ , and then, _somehow_ , as if _all that shit_ wasn't _enough_ , the playlist leads into that ancient song _Cat Scratch Fever_ , the one that's like,  _I make a pussy purr with a stroke of my hand, they know they're getting it from me, yeah, they know just where to go when they need a loving man_ , so. 

So, it's only been three weeks, but.

Steve's _probably_ got to move out. 

 

 

 

 

 

"This kinda seems like an overreaction," Billy says, rolling his eyes, when they're sitting on their fire escape, passing a bottle of milk back and forth, eating Strawberry Milkshake Pop-Tarts on Sunday morning. _Apparently_ , a whole display of Pop-Tarts fell down at the store, earlier this week, and so Billy got to take them home basically for free. Steve's _pretty sure_ this just means that Billy purposefully sabotaged a bunch of Pop-Tarts so he wouldn't have to worry about making breakfast for a couple of weeks, but. Steve's not gonna _judge_ him, or whatever, because Strawberry Milkshake Pop-Tarts are basically the _best_ kind that have _ever_ existed. "Is this a _jealousy_ thing?" 

" _What_?" 

"You on Tinder? Here, give me your phone, I'll do your profile." 

"I'm. _No_ , look--"

"I have _always_ thought that you needed a good hard _fuck_ , King Steve--"

" _Yeah_ , I _know_ , 'cause you tell me that basically _every single day_ \--"

" _Yeah_ , so I don't know why you don't want to just do as you're fucking _told_ already, _Jesus_ ," Billy spits. " _Shit_ , have I ever steered you wrong _before_?" Steve takes a _huge_ bite of a Pop-Tart, lets his wide eyes and raised eyebrows do the talking for him, and so Billy punches his arm, _hard_ , when he's like, "Look, what can I _do_ , I mean, what? You want me to have _quieter sex_ , or something? I _already_ put on _music_ , I mean--"

"Yeah, and _that's_ annoying, _too_ \--"

Billy cuts him off with an annoyed sigh. "This is why I fucking _hate_  boys like you, you know that? There's _no_ fucking pleasing you." 

"Okay, _wait_ ," Steve smirks. He bites open another pack of Pop-Tarts, licks his lips, glances up just in time to catch Billy's eyes on his mouth. "Is this even about me, anymore, or are you, just, kinda like. _Pissed_ 'cause you think you need to get a little bit better in bed?" 

"I'm a fucking _god_ in bed--"

" _You're the one_ who _just said_ you're having trouble _pleasing_ \--"

"Yeah, well, I'd have _no_ fucking trouble pleasing _you_ , alright, pretty boy? Now, shut your _fucking_ mouth before I shut it _for_ you." 

It's dumb, it's dumb, it's _super_ fucking _dumb_ , but Billy's been flirting with Steve since he fucking _moved to Hawkins_ , and he's been pushing it even _harder_ since he moved _back_ to Hawkins, and.

Steve puts down his Pop-Tart, presses forward, licks his way into Billy's mouth.

Billy tastes like sweet creamy artificial strawberries, like cigarettes, like fucking _sex_ , and.

Steve _knows_ he's never done this before, but. 

_Fuck_ , he could do this for _hours_. 

It doesn't seem to matter that Steve doesn't really know what he's doing, _anyway_ , because once Billy gets past his initial wide-eyed _what the fuck is going on_ thing, which, to his credit, _only_ takes about twenty seconds, he's reaching over to pull Steve halfway into his lap, kissing down his jaw, biting at his throat, grinning against his neck when he hears Steve groan, "Jesus, fuck, _Billy_." 

And they're there for.

God.

Minutes?

_Hours_?

Steve doesn't fucking _know_ , but. 

One second, Billy's grabbing his ass, promising, "I'm gonna fucking _wreck_ you, you know that, baby? You _ready_ for it?" And then, the _next_ second, an alarm on Billy's phone's going off, and he hisses, "Oh, _shit_. I got _work_." 

"Call in sick," says Steve, who is usually a _big_ supporter of people showing up places when they say they will, he _really_ is, but, like. 

He's only fucking _human_. 

Billy shakes his head, presses one of his stupidly big hands against Steve's chest until he's backed up off his lap, groans, "Nah, they check in with my probation officer, I. _Jesus_ , it's. Just a four hour shift, at least, okay? You won't even miss me." 

"Yeah, I'd _never_ miss you, that was _never_ a concern I _had_ \--"

Billy kisses him again, breathing hot and heavy and hard into Steve's mouth, biting lightly at his bottom lip as he pulls back. " _Not_ gonna miss me, huh?" 

Steve does his best to look _totally_ uninterested when he shrugs, "I'mma just go back to bed, probably." 

And Billy groans out a laugh, knocks his head back, licks his lips, like, "Wait for me."

Steve rolls his eyes, climbs back through the window, starts walking back to his room. 

"I _mean_ it!" Billy calls out, climbing in after him. "I'm going to rock your whole fucking _world_ in about four and a half hours, princess."

Steve pauses in front of his closed door, turns around, crosses his arms over his chest. "Okay, that _princess_ thing? It actually gets _way_ more annoying _every_ fucking time you say it." 

Billy grins. "Shut up; you _love_ it." 

"I _really_ don't." 

And the grin that's taken over Billy's face gets just a _little_ bit colder.

Darker.

_Hungrier_. 

He steps up close to Steve, even though he doesn't _have_ to, even though he's got to go get ready for work, just to breathe against Steve's lips, "You'll _learn_ to love it. _Trust_ me."

**Author's Note:**

> title from fall out boys _the shipped gold standard_.
> 
> if you thought billys playlist was Extra™ believe me you Dont want to know what _else_ is on my billy/steve playlist.  
>   
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [talk to me on tumblr right here!](http://joannavellick.tumblr.com/)


End file.
